


Words

by followmetoyourdoom



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, but yes i promise this has actual plot, crack that turned to actual plot, except we put the labels on the outside of the door to his room, only a small one but yes, the prank is based off something me and my flatmate did to her boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-19 13:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9442391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/followmetoyourdoom/pseuds/followmetoyourdoom
Summary: Words can mean a lot. And sometimes, the same words can mean something different depending on when they are uttered or read. All it takes is a little perspective. The kids - now no longer kids at eighteen - are enjoying their last summer together before they go off to college.





	1. Nicknames

**Author's Note:**

> Set a year or so after Jim gets back from the Darklands, the evil is defeated, Strickler and Barbara are back together (something I will be writing, like the entire thing, but as a separate fic. obviously.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A seemingly harmless prank (that involves 'breaking into' the museum once again) comes to an abrupt halt when Jim, Toby, and Claire come across a small black box.

"This is petty."

"Never said it wasn't," Jim chirped, labelling machine in hand.

"Live a little Claire," Toby put in, sheet of paper in hand with some choice nicknames for a certain changeling.

Staring up at the museum - Strickler's new place of employment - Claire frowned.

"Is this even legal?"

"No," the boys answered at the same time.

"Although," Jim continued, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket and shaking them, "I did manage to nab Strickler's keys yesterday during dinner while he was making googly eyes at my mother." 

Jim didn't seem to happy about that particular arrangement.

Oh he'd made his peace a year or so ago; and after everything that had happened, Jim was rather glad his mother would have someone there for her when he went off to college after the summer. He wouldn't be too far away - he couldn't in case of a trollhunting emergency - and would visit every now and again. But he wouldn't be there all the time.

However, that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun with his mother's boyfriend.

"Jimbo! I found the backdoor!"

Racing over, Jim tested each key until he found the right one, opened the door, and slipped a hand inside to deactivate the alarm.

"How do you know the code?"

"Strickler changed it to my mom's birthday as soon as he became the curator." Jim shrugged, having overheard him saying as much to her.

Quietly, the three teens snuck inside and found their way to Strickler's office.

Selecting the right key took longer this time and it didn't exactly help Jim's concentration to hear Toby's anxious "Hurry up, Jim!" every two seconds.

"Got it!" Jim said finally, shoving the door open.

Toby cackled, "Okay let's start!" He pointed to Jim who was ready with the labelling machine while Claire shook her head.

"Wait, where are we putting these?"

"All over?" Toby suggested.

Jim thought. "Nah, we don't have enough."

"Why don't you put them on this side of his door, that way he won't notice until he sits down at his desk and he'll have to walk all the way back over to investigate. Put all of them there except one, put one on the underside of his desk."

The boys stared at Claire.

"You're getting devious," Jim noted.

"Why thank you."

Toby cleared his throat, "Alright, first one: 'Grumpy Avocado'."

Jim typed it out eagerly, snickering as he did so, then pressed the print button. Once it finished, he ripped the label out and gave it to Claire for her to pick the back off, her longer nails would make quick work of it.

Rolling her eyes, Claire peeled off the back and then stood on her tiptoes to place the offending nickname at the very top of the door.

"Next one," Toby announced, "'Khaki Beanpole'."

The system continued, and soon the door was scattered with nicknames.

Among them: 'Lanky Celery', 'Eagle McEagle Face', 'Angry Artichoke', 'Shapeshifting Cucumber', 'Prickly Cactus', 'Knives McGee', and - Jim's favourite - 'Dickbutt'.

Soon there were only a few more to go; one of the last ones was, "'Charming Xenophilic'."

There was silence.

"What?"

"Toby I am not writing that one out," Jim said deadpan. "Just no."

Tobias shrugged, "Alright. 'Motherfucker'."

"TOBY!" Jim and Claire shouted together.

"Am I wrong?"

Jim grumbled and angrily typed it out, peeling it himself irritably and slamming it onto the door.

Claire's eyes went wide. "Not so loud!"

"That's what Strickler says," Toby quipped, jumping out of Jim's range.

Jim stared daggers at his best friend, questioning his life choices and wondering if it was worth throwing the labelling machine at Toby's head.

"What's the last one?" Jim asked between gritted teeth.

"'Green Feathered Toothpick With An Attitude Problem'," Toby dictated warily, slowly edging off to the side since Jim had begun to walk towards Strickler's desk.

Poking Toby in his arm as he passed him, Jim threw himself onto the desk chair, swiveling around as he finished typing out the nickname.

Claire perched herself on the desk, hand outstretched, waiting for the label to print.

While she fought with the back of the label, the length of it making the peeling process rather annoying, Jim decided to check the desk draws.

"Office supplies… reports… a pebble? … more paperclips…"

Toby walked over, satisfied Jim was distracted enough to forget his annoyance with him, and peered down at the set of draws.

Opening the last draw, Jim cocked his head as he noticed a small box.

Nervously, Jim picked it up. Something niggled at the back of his head, something that told him he shouldn't open it. 

He was about to put it back when Claire's cry of "Got it!" startled him and he dropped the box.

It bounced across the floor before bursting open, revealing its contents.

A ring.

And not just any ring, it was clearly an engagement ring. 

Its band was silver in colour, but with a yellow tinge that implied white gold. The centre jewel was a miniature heartstone, the oranges and reds reflecting the moonlight that shone in through a window; and diversely sized diamonds boarded it and continued a third around each side of the band.

The three stared at it, not knowing what to say.

It was Toby that broke the silence. "At least he's committed."


	2. Nerves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is getting on Strickler's and as if that's not enough, Strickler has to decide what he's going to do now that his once greatest foe knows about his plan to propose to that same past-foe's mother. Can he bring the proposal forward, or will his nerves get the better of him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just gonna say this upfront lol don't expect the next chapter update to be this fast xD (Sorry, I'm trying to get better at writing consistently)

Strickler was very much still asleep. He'd once gotten into a routine of waking up early and actually feeling like a normal person, until of course the whole ordeal with Jim and the rest of the trollhunters had occurred, and he'd fled the country for a while.

For some strange reason national school boards didn't like it when you disappeared for weeks on end with no explanation. Weird, huh?

But no matter, he would soon get back into the swing of things. 

He sipped the coffee he'd called for on his way to work appreciatively, he definitely needed the caffeine today. 

An out of town middle school was visiting and he found himself looking forward to it. It was no secret that he liked teaching, educating the youth about the past... well, it was an honour. And one that he found he was missing.

Strickler was happy he'd have a chance to revisit that today.

He smiled into his latte and hummed 'My Girl' sleepily, sure that the day would prove to be marvellous.

It didn't take long for him to be proven wrong.

Walking into his office, nothing had seemed amiss until he'd sat down at his desk and open his draw to sort through the new collections documents.

Straight away he noticed that the carefully placed and important pebble - a small ordinary grey one Barbara had given him for no apparent reason - was no longer sat perfectly in the middle of said pile of documentation. It wasn't even sat on the paperwork at all, but rather off to the side.

Instantly fearing the worst, Strickler quickly opened the last draw to check the ring he'd hand-crafted for Barbara. 

Yes, it was still in the box - that was a relief - but it was missing one of the diamonds.

Strickler frowned. Someone had definitely been here.

He could refit another diamond in its place easily enough, he was more concerned about who could have broken in, and why they hadn't taken anything.

A quick glance up told him all he needed to know.

At first it just looked like little white stickers plastered all over his door at seemingly random intervals. 

How curious.

When he got closer his curiosity turned to exasperation, and he rolled his eyes.

Well at least he knew who had snuck into his office now; there was only one person who had a tendency to call him 'Dickbutt' among other things. Strickler cocked his head at 'Slightly More Dangerous Kermit', surely he was a lot more dangerous, not just slightly.

Like c'mon, give him some credit.

He couldn't keep the smirk off his face when he saw 'Motherfucker' listed as a nickname. That one was true at least, though he did wonder why it was up here. Unless of course, Jim had gotten his friends to help. It wouldn't surprise him.

Sighing heavily, Strickler got to work peeling off all the labels.

Where had they even got all these nickname from I mean really, 'Baffled Vulture'? 'Long Green Bean'?? 'Beaky McSneaky', 'The Crabbiest Muppet', 'Green Giraffe'???

Strickler planned on having very serious words with Jim once he got home.

His mind drifted back to the ring he was now sure Jim had seen… 

Well… Perhaps he could pretend like this whole thing had never happened. Yes, that sounded like a good idea. What was a 'Buttface' label between allies after all?

Though the 'Stone Faced Spring Onion', and 'Horned Pickle Man' labels were pushing it.

Why did he keep getting referred to as produce?

He only just got the labels off in time when a loud knock right next to his ear startled him. Hastily, he stuffed the screwed up labels into his pocket and stepped away from the door to open it.

"Ah, you must be Principal…" Strickler trailed off as he realised, in his haste to remove the nicknames, he had forgotten to check her name.

She raised an eyebrow. "Lempke," she said curtly. "Why were you not waiting outside?"

"I um, had business to attend to prior. I apologise. Why don't we head out there now?" Strickler gestured towards the lobby, almost pushing the woman out of the way as he closed the door behind him.

He silently cursed Jim for affecting his work performance. Strickler had only just been accepted into this role, it would not do for him to be fired before his first week was even up.

Thankfully, the rest of the day went by without a problem. 

The middle schoolers were fascinated by every word Strickler uttered and followed him around the museum far more eagerly than they did their principal.

From the prehistoric era to greek history to the scottish vikings to Columbus to victorian england; Strickler took them around each and every exhibit and told them all he knew, and he enjoyed every second of it. So much so he considered taking up teaching on the side.

As the day wrapped up, Strickler returned to his office to collect the damaged ring. He'd have to call at Trollmarket on his way to Barbara's house - another 'family' dinner was planned.

He was tempted to pop the question before Jim could bring it up in front of Barbara and ruin the surprise. However, whether he would actually go through with this temptation proved unpredictable.

If you asked Strickler if he was purposely taking his time he would, of course, say no.

It did however remain to be seen that he texted Barbara to tell her he'd be late before he even started working on replacing the diamond in the ring. And he did perhaps take a little too long pick out the perfect diamond, and cleaning the entire ring meticulously once the stone had been set wasn't exactly necessary.

Once he'd finished however, it glowed and seemed to pulsate in a visual imitation of Strickler's own heart. The heart he had already given Barbara long ago, but would give again and again if needed.

Walter Strickler was not a brave man, not by nature. But he would need to be in order to ask for Barbara's hand in marriage.

So if being brave was needed, brave is what he would become.

This was a mantra he repeated in his head over and over as he pulled up outside the Lake residence at around a quarter to eight.

Through the window he saw Barbara sitting at the dining table, looking behind her towards the kitchen - probably talking to Jim. Hopefully this would work, hopefully Strickler wouldn't bottle it.

His eyes widened as he imagined a scenario in which Jim brought it up before he could, and even then Strickler wasn't able to go through with it. His nerves would fail him. He would-

No. He could do this.

Taking a deep breath, he checked the ring in its box and slipped it inside his jacket pocket.

Walking up to the porch seemed to take an eternity, but he did it; and, hand shaking slightly, knocked on the front door.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lempke is the name of the museum curator in the trollhunters book; and [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6bsdGo8dEoY) is the song Strickler hums.
> 
> And yes. Cliffhanger on purpose :P


	3. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An awkward meal with Jim staring daggers at Strickler followed by what may or may not be an awkward question...

"Oh that'll be Walt!" Barbara called to Jim in the kitchen.

"Finally," was Jim's quiet reply as he set to reheating the chicken satay he'd prepared a couple of hours ago, and not eaten at his mother's insistence. She had wanted to wait until Strickler arrived.

Despite Jim's hushed tones, his mother still overheard and she frown on her way to the door. "Be nice, Jim."

"Sorry, Mom. Just tired."

Barbara sighed. It seemed Jim was nothing but tired, and had been for the past two years or so. Sometimes she wondered if she should have a word with that Mr Blinky fellow to cut back Jim's training hours. 

Then again Jim would say the same for Barbara and her clinic hours.

Opening the door, Barbara hadn't quite managed to clear the worry from her expression, and Strickler noticed immediately.

"Is something wrong?"

"Just Jim being tired. As usual," she said quietly, discreetly looking over her shoulder. 

Strickler chuckled warm-heartedly. "Like mother like son," he murmured with a smile, "you're both hardworking." Gently he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, and she happily leaned into his touch.

"Sometimes I wonder if I should take over the cooking occa-"

"No!" Strickler said, far too quickly, causing Barbara to blink and take a step back. "I mean, it's his passion." This was a rather lame - if true - response. "He enjoys cooking."

Barbara bit her lip worriedly. "But what if he hurts himself because he's so tired?"

It took all of Strickler's self-restraint to refrain from a) reminding her of all the times Jim had been hurt thanks to trollhunting, and b) telling her that she would probably do more damage to herself by merely  _ looking _ at the kitchen than a sleep deprived Jim would do to himself.

Instead he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "He'll be fine, my dear."

Barbara nodded and seem to suddenly remember they were still stood at the door and shuffled backwards to allow Strickler to enter the house.

"Sorry I'm late," Strickler said loudly, for Jim's benefit.

"It's okay," Jim called back in a tone of voice that implied it very much wasn't okay, "Mom said you had to stay to do some repairs on one of the collections. Which collection?" he asked nonchalantly, knowing full well which 'collection' considering he'd noticed the missing diamond when putting the ring back.

Strickler cleared his throat. "Private museum business, I'm not at liberty to discuss it I'm afraid," he said, sitting down at the table after holding Barbara's own chair out for her.

Jim made a sound of disbelief which was masked by the beep of the oven.

Soon the meal was on the table, though something about the chicken seemed slightly off, and the side salad was looking rather limp.

Barbara didn't seem to notice.

This however did not deter Jim from throwing Strickler under the bus once again. "Sorry it's not the best, it never is when it's left for almost an hour." He pointedly stared at the party member at fault.

"I texted your mother ahead of time," Strickler said curtly.

"Mom didn't get home until seven pm. The meal was ready and waiting by that time."

Strickler looked to Barbara for help. "You have Jim's phone number too," she said matter-of-factly. So much for that then.

"Next time I shall inform the chef in that case," he muttered, defeated.

They continued their meal in relative peace, and Strickler found his mind wandering to the ring box in his jacket pocket.

More than once, he found his hand drifting down to pat his pocket, checking if it was still there, before he even realised what he was doing. When he did, he quickly curled his fingers back up and rested his free hand on the table once more.

He sneaked a glance at Barbara.

How on earth was he ever going to ask this wonderful, beautiful, amazing woman to marry him?  _ Him _ .

Said wonderful, beautiful, amazing woman was currently stuffing her face with as much lettuce as she could, occasionally leaving the corner of a leaf poking out of her mouth.

Such beauty and grace.

Just then Strickler happened to glance up and almost did a double-take.

Jim was staring murderously at him from across the table, viciously nibbling on the chicken satay sticks without breaking eye contact. At least there were no sharp knives on the table this time.

Even so, Strickler found himself wondering if there would be a repeat of the first time the three of them had sat down to a meal together. 

He could practically feel the vibe of 'I know.' And Strickler knew he knew.

Oh Skaargen, it was exactly like that first meal.

And then Jim surprised them all.

He finished his meal, put his knife and fork together, and stood up.

"Gonna go to bed early," he explained, "I'll clean the dishes in the morning." Jim gestured to the kitchen.

"That's okay, I'll clean them later tonight."

Jim looked as if he was about to argue with her but then simply shrugged. "Gnight, Mom," he said as he walked towards and up the stairs. "Good night… Walt."

Strickler raised an eyebrow.

Barbara pulled a face and continued on with her meal.

Soon enough the pair had finished and retired to the sofa, cuddling up together.

This proved to be a mistake.

"What's in your jacket pocket?" Barbara muttered, wiggling and then sitting up. "It's digging in me."

Strickler swore he felt his heart stop.

It's okay, he could do this. He could be brave. What was that phrase he'd heard Jim repeated over and over? 'Fear is but the precursor to valor,' bravery, valor… same thing.

He took a deep breath.

"I've been making something for you for a while," he began, taking the small box out of his pocket. "I would say it's not much, but it is quite a big deal. Took me a few months."

He laughed nervously and stood up off the sofa before getting down on one knee.

So focused on getting this right, Strickler didn't notice how Barbara froze up when he opened the box to reveal the ring. He didn't notice her eyes widen and her pupils contract, how she began to tremble and shake. Barbara didn't even hear the words he spoke, didn't hear how his voice broke on 'marry me' or how it took him several tries to ask. She didn't have to - she knew exactly what was going on. 

And she was terrified. 

Still Strickler didn't notice, not until he finished his request and looked up that is. As soon as he did, the smile faded from his face and he was instantly concerned.

"Barbara are you-" She held up a hand stopping him, the other clenched against her chest.

Strickler was lost. He hadn't meant to upset her; he wanted to comfort her, but he wasn't sure his comfort was what she needed right now.

So, he waited, frozen in place. 

Eventually, after taking deep breaths and closing her eyes, Barbara spoke.

"Walt… This is very... sweet," she said nervously, "but I'm afraid I'm going to have to say no."

Before Strickler's face could fall even more, Barbara rushed to continue.

"Let me explain myself." 

She took his free hand and pulled him up off his knee, unfreezing him, and guided him back to the sofa next to her.

"I don't think I want to get married again. Not now, not ever." She took a deep breath. "My last experience wasn't a pleasant one. That's not to say the same would happen with you, but still I…" her voice faded out.

"You wouldn't want to take the risk?"

Barbara shook her head and laughed softly. "I would risk my life for you," she murmured truthfully, eyes cast down focusing on their joined hands.

Strickler himself felt very confused. 

His heart had gone from stopping, to jittering, to breaking, to soaring, to trembling with worry; all in the span of a minute.

' _ I would risk my life for you, _ ' the words repeated over and over in his head in her voice, in the exact tonation she'd used with her soft laugh as a backing track. ' _ I would risk my life for you, _ '. It was the symphony to his heart gymnastics.

He would do the same of course, without a shadow of a doubt. But he didn't want - would never want - her to risk her own life for him.

Nervously, he told her as much. 

And she smiled, and she answered, "You're worth it. You're too good to be lumped in with… with  _ him _ . My husband left me," she said without a trace of emotion in her voice, though the hand that held Strickler's trembled. "What I need now is a partner, not another husband.

"I need you. But not like this."

Strickler nodded, finally understanding.

Barbara smiled, then gasped softly. "You said this took you ages!" She gestured at the box which Strickler had closed once Barbara had pulled him back onto the sofa. She'd never even focused on the ring itself.

"So?" Strickler asked, not seeing the problem.

"Well… I just… I've basically just thrown away all that hard work, haven't I? I mean, I didn't even look at the ring."

Strickler shrugged. "It doesn't matter, my dear, it's just a ring."

"Can I have a look at it?" Barbara asked timidly.

"Are you sure?" Strickler didn't want to upset her again, and if that meant getting rid of the ring, then he would.

Barbara nodded. "It doesn't have to be an engagement ring, right?"

"No it doesn't," he reassured her, passing the box - still closed - over. "It can just be a normal ring."

She opened the box, and was silent for a while as she studied it.

"This is incredibly beautiful for a normal ring," she murmured, delicately tapping the heartstone. "You made this?"

Strickler nodded. "All trolls and changelings are taught how to cut and set gems. Also-" he took her hand once again- "you don't have to keep it if you don't want to, if it's too… flamboyant for you."

"No, no. It's perfect. It can be a ring for us. Not an engagement ring, not a wedding ring-"

"Just an 'us' ring," he finished for her.

Barbara smiled warmly. "Exactly." She held out her right hand. "Care to do the honours?" she asked coyly.

Strickler chuckled and slipped the ring onto her finger. "I insist."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I made it a bit angsty, just, this is what I'm like. But it's happy, hurt/comfort angst so ye. Last chapter will be the epilogue which I'm still working on.


	4. Glasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue to this fic. Enjoy ^-^

It was Fall, early November to be more precise. 

Golden red leaves fluttered softly in the wind, perhaps in imitation of the way Barbara's heartstone ring rose and fell with the swing of her's and Strickler's joint hands.

Barbara had finally gotten time off work and, seeing as business was rather quiet at the museum, Strickler had suggested taking a walk in the park and then showing her around the exhibits. She had gladly agreed.

They were now on their way to the museum, talking happily about their shared serendipitous situations.

"-actually forced me to take a week off, can you believe that?"

Strickler squeezed her hand. "Well I'm glad they did."

"Yeah," Barbara smiled, leaning her head on her partner's shoulder, "me too now."

They spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the museum, hand in hand, while Strickler enthused about the various exhibits. If Barbara was honest, she only found it mildly interesting. Watching Strickler's face light up as he talked about his passion was far more captivating.

Eventually they reached the end of the tour and Strickler took Barbara back to his office, saying he had to pick up some paperwork before they left.

"It provides an excellent environment for working," Strickler said as he opened the door.

Barbara stared at the desk at the far end of the room for a second, weighing up its size, then grinned. "You know what else this office is good for, especially after all that work?"

"Well I didn't do any work today, I've been with y-"

"Walt, darling."

Strickler blinked and stammered, "Y-yes?"

"Shut up," she commanded, shutting the door behind her and locking it with a quick flick of the latch.

It was a good job it was off-season for the museum, especially considering the thinness of the walls and Barbara's apparent determination to break her partner's desk, though Strickler wasn't taking it slowly either. Not that they necessarily stuck to just the table.

When they'd quelled their passion, they sat together on his chair, clothes crumpled.

Strickler was nuzzling Barbara's neck, scattering kisses from under her chin to her collarbone, all while she giggled and tried, half-heartedly, to push him off.

"Let me-" she giggled again- "let me get my glasses so I can see you." Strickler nodded and Barbara craned her neck, looking around for them before she realised her problem. "I can't find my glasses without my glasses."

Strickler laughed softly and lifted Barbara onto the desk with ease so he could look for them for her. 

He spotted her glasses almost immediately, carelessly thrown onto the floor under the desk. 

"I'll get them, my dear."

Getting down onto his hands and knees, Strickler reached for Barbara's glasses. As he did so, his eyes caught sight of something out of place, something he recognised from early summer.

Strickler chuckled, standing up with a familiar strip of white paper in one hand and Barbara's glasses in the other.

Once she'd put her glasses back on, Barbara peered at the paper, curious.

'"'Green Feathered Toothpick With An Attitude Problem'," Barbara read off, giggling out-loud as she did so. "Jim?"

Strickler nodded, a fond smile on his face.

Barbara rolled her eyes. "Well, you're my green feathered toothpick."

"Thank you," Strickler said with a snort.

Had he found this nickname on the same day as he found the others, Strickler would of course have scoffed in disdain and screwed it up like the rest of them.

As it was, he folded it carefully and placed it in his keepsake draw alongside the faded pebble.

After all, the meaning of words is such a fickle thing, easily changed by context.

All it takes is a little perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally they were just gonna make out, but then, with a little convincing from my gf, I decided that they could just go all the way. Not explicitly written out bc I didn't want this fic to go past the T rating. Also I didn't want to take too much away from that final line and overall feel of the fic.


End file.
